


the red forest

by itllbeall-dwight (dupesoclock)



Category: Dead by Daylight (Video Game)
Genre: -adjacent, Canon Compliant, Character Study
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-17
Updated: 2021-01-17
Packaged: 2021-03-15 18:01:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28817496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dupesoclock/pseuds/itllbeall-dwight
Summary: “You have mama’s eyes, Anna.” The mother had said, as the girl sat in her lap in front of the vanity, listening to the sounds of early morning birds outside as she braided her hair. “And mama’s smile. It suits you well, my little munchkin. Promise me you’ll never lose that smile of yours.”And the girl smiled, that very smile that was now under a contract, meeting her mother’s gaze in the reflection. “Of course, Mama.”--in the red forest, there's a quaint little cabin.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 13





	the red forest

**Author's Note:**

> HOUGH. FUCK IM TERRIBLE 
> 
> this was a gift for the dbd gift exchange on tumblr!! once again I'm last out of the gate, and I apologise so so deeply, but I did it, and I really hope this is enjoyable!! i wanted to write for a character I don't really.. write for, all that much, and so I chose anna! 
> 
> [here's](https://itwillbeall-dwight.tumblr.com/post/640589649979572224/the-red-forest) the tumblr mirror, please consider liking and reblogging over there. thank you all, and i hope you're all having a wonderful new year!

The axe hitting the stump is a hard thump, scarring a few birds in a nearby tree as a small log splits in half. The woman stands to her full height - tall, broad and scarred from years conquering the wilderness - breathing out her mouth as her chest heaved from exertion, leaning against her axe as she looks into the treeline, where fog swirls and gathers to obscure her view of a distant temple. She swallows, squatting down to place the small planks of firewood into a cloth basket, one that she slings over her shoulder with relative ease. A cold wind brushes past her, whipping the veil on her mask, as she walks back to an old wooden cabin, in the centre of the red forest. She was the Huntress to some people, a territorial woman, and she’d lived in this cabin all her life.

The wind follows her as it whistles through the old cabin, the smell of pine mixing with the burning firewood to create a harsh, earthy aroma. The Huntress stands tall as she returns home, hauling the bundle of wood she’s chopped from her shoulder and down under the stairs, the large heap creating a loud clatter as she stretches her back with a satisfied grunt. Moving to rest her axe in the doorway, she begins cracking her knuckles and rolling her neck, her heavy footsteps echoing around the silent cabin as she walks over to the centre. A large hand takes a hold of a seat from the table and pulls it out to sit on, poking at the burning fire billowing smoke from the tall chimney as she does. Life in the Red Forest was a peaceful one, so much so that it was difficult to remember that the life she now led was any different to the years she’d spent living before. 

The sounds of crackling firewood bring her great comfort as she leans back in her chair, the seat creaking under her weight but remaining strong. She moves a strong arm to pull the mask she wore over the back of her head and rest it on the table, something akin to a sigh escaping her as she closes her eyes, a wave of fatigue washing over her as she lets the warmth of the fireplace flow through the cabin. Her hands rest on her lower abdomen, head hanging low as she closes her eyes.

She thought back on memories that the cabin had brought her, distant ones of a starry-eyed child and a mother that loved her so much. The way a firm but soft hand ran through her long black locks, thick from the cold like a wolves pelt, brushed with such love and care in front of an old mirror.

“You have mama’s eyes, Anna.” The mother had said, as the girl sat in her lap in front of the vanity, listening to the sounds of early morning birds outside as she braided her hair. “And mama’s smile. It suits you well, my little munchkin. Promise me you’ll never lose that smile of yours.”

And the girl smiled, that very smile that was now under a contract, meeting her mother’s gaze in the reflection. “Of course, Mama.”

The woman smiled down, her fingers gentle as she continued her work, humming a lullaby that soon stuck in the back of the girl’s mind, as the thing that had haunted her for months, both in dreams and awake, after the accident. 

How was it that, without such a light, the cabin was so much colder and lonely? How was it that the bright young girl, who once smiled and followed in the footsteps of her mother on the hunt, would sit in a corner and cry for hours in the darkness, a grumble in her stomach?

It was hard for her to eat, to even live, so young and alone, but the girl knew she had to make a choice. And in her mourning, she looked up and made it, curiosity in her eyes. Her mother had died to the forest. So she had to control it - bend it to her will, and show it she was not a little girl anymore, as she smiled to herself and pushed herself to her feet, grabbing her mother’s hatchet that had been left at the door, still stained with the blood of her final hunt.

The Huntress opens an eye, a grumble escaping her as the crows caw outside. The poor things are starving, it seems. She huffs as she stands up from her chair, hoping to dig around the cabin for something she can use to satiate their melancholy song, a small bag of seeds collected in her final winter sitting on the bottom of a shelf. As she hums her familiar tune to herself, large hands reach to grab the bag, before she delicately shuts the doors and stands to her feet, poking her head out of the cabin doors and looking up to the nearby tree, where a pair of crows sit and yell at her in their native tongues. She mutters profanities back in her own, a chuckle escaping her as she scatters the nuts on the floor, which the birds pounce at and happily pick from the damp grass. As the killer goes back inside, she rests the nuts against an open windowsill, knowing the animals were both desperate and intelligent enough to come and seek more food from the hand that had fed them. Of course she would know this. They were in her forest, after all.

She goes to sit back in her chair, the old furniture straining under her weight but remaining as strong as it always had, stretching her arms above her head with a quiet yawn, clicking her tongue as she slouches into it again. A foot taps idly against the floor as the heat from the fire hit her once more. It has always been the peaceful tranquillity of the forest that had brought her great joy, and her defence of it that brought her great pride, especially with the figures that come to try and claim the land as theirs recently. Strange ones, adorned with eyewear and jewellery that came from the cities she avoided, and an odd confidence despite being defenceless against her, aside from their wits. This had happened since the strange fog had rolled through, when remnants of it still lingered in the forest. It made her uneasy, it was something she didn’t understand, but she was going to defend the home that her mother gave her with her life. Since it had taken hers.

Folding her arms across her chest again, she inhales and exhales, stretching out her legs in front of her and crossing over her ankles against the warmth of the fire. She tries to let the tension in her shoulders relax, although they never fully do, in case an odd fool decides to come and take her out, be it the creatures of the forest, or hunters in their own right. She was always ready for them - the hatchets in her belt never left her. Those had been a gift from her mother, too, left against her will as life left her gaping mouth with a shocked expression, a hand outstretched to a young girl who’s future was crafted into a path far different than the one she had been taking. A path of loneliness. But she liked that. No one would leave her here. Because nothing was here to begin with.

And that’s how she falls asleep, arms against her chest, as the fire goes out with no fuel left to feed it, reducing the cabin to darkness and silence, the forest whispering tales of the fog and the things beyond the treeline.


End file.
